As The Rain Falls
by Skalidra
Summary: Now that the family's a little bit more together, there are Alfred-enforced family dinners every month. Most of the time, they go pretty well. Violence - serious violence, anyway - is rare, verbal combat is at a minimum, and the girls are always more than happy to have a night together. Dick, as the oldest official sibling, is partially in charge of managing the rest of the family.
Welcome back! This is another prompt, 96 - 'In The Storm', and JayDick was requested for it. This is, honestly, total hurt/comfort with a bit of fluff and some very small hints at a relationship. Enjoy!

 **Warnings** for: mentions of previous character death.

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The family dinners are getting easier to handle, in a way. Technically Bruce is in charge, and responsible for everything that happens, but realistically that just isn't fair. Alfred is the undisputed actual master of the nights — and the reason why any of the less social members of their family agreed to the idea of a monthly 'family' night — but as one of the two eldest siblings among all of them, Dick does his best to try and keep everything calmed down to a normal level of crazy.

He shares that nearly impossible duty with Barbara, who is _much_ better at it than he is, but she can't always make it. She has other family obligations. Another family.

That just leaves him, trying to keep two younger sisters and three other brothers in line, with none of them actually wanting to be called that. First there's his relationship with Barbara, and then Tim's with Steph, and really, he should just give up the idea of calling them siblings. They're family, and family doesn't have to be blood. In this case it also means that dating inside the family is a more normal practice, weird as it sounds.

There's the flirting between Steph and Cass, which may be more by now, he's not totally sure; the _looks_ that Damian keeps giving Tim, now that they're both closer to being real adults; and then there's, well, _him_. He's pretty damn sure he has no right looking at Jason the way he does, but it's happening regardless. He can't seem to stop himself from noticing how _attractive_ Jason is, especially with how much he's calmed down over the years.

What he _can_ stop himself from doing is acting on it, because one thing he doesn't really want to do is upset the dynamics in this family any more than they already have been. He's pretty sure that trying to make a move on Jason, of everyone here, would be the thing most absolutely guaranteed to do exactly that.

So after dinner itself — ruled by Alfred and with an iron hand — the whole pack gets herded out into one of the bigger, and comfier living rooms. The one reserved for larger gatherings of family, or team members. This is where the Teen Titans and the League end up, on the rare occasions they come by.

Bruce immediately ensconces himself in an armchair with a view of the entire room, watching over a cup of what is absolutely coffee. What else would it be, with their lives? Tim and Damian head for a set up chess board with fancy glass pieces, settling onto the floor in front of the fire across from each other. Steph and Cass end up on the couch, Steph sprawled out over it with her head in Cass' lap, and Barbara wheels in beside them as they chat. Jason considers both groups, shoots _him_ a questioning look, and then goes to join the girls, getting underneath Steph's feet.

He detours to Bruce, forcing him — through a combination of big, sad, blue eyes and guilt — to come sit in a chair close enough that their collective 'Dad' could actually be part of the conversations. Then he sprawls out on the floor next to Damian and Tim to watch their match, offering helpful and useless tips in turns just to watch them both glare or huff at him.

Then he rolls over to engage himself in conversation with the girls — and Jason — instead.

From outside, rain pelts against the windows, adding a low drone to the background of their conversations to mix with the soft crackle of the fire. There's also the occasional rumble of thunder, but the source is far away and the sound is pretty far removed from our bit of the storm. There are faint flashes every once in awhile, but nothing big or threatening. Especially not to a group like ours.

Jason excuses himself about a minute after one of those flashes, slipping from the room, and not even two more later Tim and Damian start grappling on the carpet, apparently over who gets to start the second game with what color.

He just shakes his head, smiling and telling them, "Don't break anything important or set yourselves on fire," he warns, over the sound of their scuffling.

Bruce sinks a little further behind his coffee.

Because of the madness — Damian wins — it takes him somewhere around twenty minutes to realize that Jason hasn't come back. Everyone else is pretty involved, but he can see Bruce cue off of his own slight confusion, following the path of his gaze to Jason's empty spot on the couch. Bruce almost starts to get up, but he gives a tiny shake of his head and rolls up to his feet.

He murmurs some half-assed excuse to Barbara as he slips past, and then leans down, resting a hand on Bruce's shoulder as he promises, "I'll find him."

Bruce reaches up, clasping his hand for just a moment before murmuring, not even looking up at him, "Rain. He's in the attic."

Half-remembered things come slipping back to his mind as he leaves the room, turning Bruce's words around in his head. He has a few vague memories of Jason disappearing when he was younger and still Robin, and generally finding him either on the roof or squirreled away in a corner of the attic. He'd always just thought that being high was Jason's favorite place to be, not that there might be some kind of connection to a storm, off all things.

He shouldn't judge; they've all got weird things that make them uneasy. It's a hazard of the job.

Still, he follows Bruce's directions. It's been a long time since he was in the attic, but faint memory gets him there easily enough. He climbs up into it, keeping quiet more out of habit than any desire to sneak up on Jason, if he ever even could. It's dark up here, the rectangular lumps of carefully sealed boxes making odd shadows, and he carefully closes the trapdoor beneath him, taking a careful look around. Out of instinct, he follows the one source of light around a high tower of the boxes, and to a round window with a curled figure in front of it.

"Jason?" he calls softly.

Jason looks back at him, watching as he approaches, making sure that he stays slow and steady. The window is in a recess, and Jason is against one side of it so he slides himself onto the other side, half his back pressing against the wall. He shivers at the draft of cold air, taking a glance over to confirm that the window is half open on Jason's side. It's probably because in the hand closer to the window, Jason's holding a half-burnt cigarette, smoke easing from the tip of it in little curls.

"What are you doing up here, Goldie?" Hint one; Jason almost never uses any of those old nicknames for him outside of their suits, unless he's feeling defensive and probably isn't alright.

He tilts his leg, brushing it against Jason's knee where their legs are forced together out of proximity. "Came to find you, Little Wing." He offers a small smile, a bit of truth as he adds, "When you vanish, I get worried."

Jason shrugs, gaze turning to stare out the window. "Well here I am."

Silence, as Jason lifts the cigarette and takes a long drag. There's no exhale for long enough he almost worries, before Jason lets the smoke out in a rush of breath aimed at the window, even though it quickly gets whipped away by the wind. Hint two; Jason doesn't smoke anymore except when he feels he needs it, which usually means that he's self-medicating in response to one memory or another. It's not a great option, but honestly it's healthier than a lot of the other ways Jason could choose to cope, so he's not going to hassle Jason about it in anything more than jest.

"Do you want to talk?" he offers, keeping the gentle pressure of his knee against Jason's.

Jason doesn't look away from the window. "I don't like rain; what's there to talk about?"

"Dunno," he answers easily. "Guess that's up to you."

Jason looks over at him, eyes narrowed and sharp like he's trying to ferret out ulterior motive. He gives another smile, pressing his knee a little more firmly into Jason's instead of reaching out with a hand. Jason snorts and shakes his head, flicking the cigarette with a practiced twist of his hand to get off the extra ash. Nothing yet, but he can almost feel the nervous energy in Jason, can sort of see it in the way Jason's chin is raised more than normal, breath coming a little fast.

Then a moment of stillness, where Jason holds his breath, closing his eyes. He stays absolutely still as well, not willing to disrupt Jason's moment, until the breath rushes out and Jason's head dips.

"You know," Jason starts, voice low and quiet, "this used to feel like the safest place in the manor. It's hard to find and get into, there are enough ledges to climb down from this window," he taps the sill, "and with all the boxes up here there are a dozen places to hide. Secure with an escape route; perfect mix."

"And now?"

Jason breathes in again, slow and just a little shaky as he glances back towards the rest of the attic. "Now? It's dark, cramped… Can't be up here without thinking of the fucking ground." Jason shudders, turns to look back out the window. "Don't have anywhere else to be either."

At that he reaches forward, touching Jason's knee with his fingers and giving a gentle squeeze to it. Jason doesn't look at him, but he doesn't expect it. "You could come back downstairs? You know none of us will judge you, Little Wing."

Jason gives a sharp shake of his head, and a muttered but intense, " _No_."

"Then can I sit with you?"

That gets him a glance, and a couple moments of staring, before Jason gives a small shrug and looks away again. Not exactly permission, but not exactly a refusal either. With Jason in this kind of a mood, that's probably the best he's going to get.

He shifts over, making his way around Jason's side and then fitting up against it. Jason sucks in a little breath, goes tense, but doesn't stop him from sliding an arm around his waist. He worms his way partially back so he's sandwiched between Jason and the wall, wrapping his arms around Jason's waist and ignoring the faintly uncomfortable way his legs are twisted out.

"What're you doing?" Jason asks, still tense but not struggling and not snapping at him to get away, which is another small victory.

He gently squeezes Jason's waist, then lowers his head down against one broad shoulder. "Sitting with you," he murmurs. "For however long you need."

Another few seconds go by, where he doesn't move and Jason doesn't hit him. Then, finally, Jason relaxes a little bit, leaning back against him. The hand not holding the cigarette rises to grasp one of his arms, fingers digging in against his wrist. He shifts his legs out to be a little more comfortable, tilting his head in against Jason's neck before he extracts his free arm from around Jason's waist. He reaches over, feels the flicker of tension as he takes the half of a cigarette from Jason's fingers.

Then Jason's head tilts to watch as he lifts it, takes a small drag himself. The smoke burns a bit — it's been awhile since he's smoked anything — but he manages to ignore it with a bit of effort, and when Jason reclaims the cigarette he gives it up without a fight. He shifts his head away to let the smoke come out in his next exhale, as Jason makes a small noise that's somewhere between impressed and confused.

"I didn't think you smoked."

He squeezes Jason's waist a little tighter, and gives a small smile. "You missed a lot of my more interesting years, Little Wing. There's probably a lot of things I've done you don't know about."

Jason is watching him, keeps watching him for a long few seconds, and then murmurs, "Yeah?"

He can't quite puzzle out the feeling behind the question, because he's pretty sure that little note of interest in Jason's voice is all his imagination, but he nods anyway. "Yeah."

Then Jason squeezes his wrist, gaze lowering for a moment before meeting his again. "Maybe you could show me sometime." The tone and choice of words seems to hint at a lot more than just some innocent kind of show and tell, but he has to be imagining that because there's no way Jason is actually interested in him the same way. There's just no way.

Carefully, he holds Jason a little more securely and answers, "I'd like that."

He tries to study Jason's expression, but doesn't really get the chance because the next moment Jason's turning his head away with a small noise of understanding, and raising the cigarette. He watches Jason take in a breath through it, heart rising high in his chest at that implied agreement. At the idea that maybe… Jason's still staring out the window, into the driving rain, but he's a little more relaxed now. A little less haunted. That's very good news

Wordlessly, Jason offers him the cigarette.

He smiles, presses the side of his head into Jason's neck, and takes it.


End file.
